A Day With a Stranger
by Evs
Summary: The story of two huge Escaflowne fans, as fate draws them together at an anime convention.


A Day with a Stranger

By Evs

Dear reader, please take note that this isn't a "Normal," fan fiction. Meaning it doesn't take place during the Escaflowne TV series or movie, or even in the world of Gaea. Instead it focuses on two people who like Escaflowne, and anime in general, a lot. Enjoy.

A harsh summer morning's light crashed through the motel's balcony window, dancing across Paul's face as he slept. Paul, in his dream world and determined to stay there, raised his hand and clumsily wailed it about, as if to swat the light away, like it were a pest. After growing tired of battling the unwavering rays, Paul's hand collapsed onto his face. His fingers squirmed and found their way to his eyes and began rubbing them, trying to awaken them.

Paul finally sat up in his bed and looked about the hotel, and what he saw brought his fingers to eyes again, but this time he seemed to be trying to erase what he saw. Before him laid a canvas of filth and trash: clothes strewn about everywhere, mountains of bottles erected here and there, little islands of cigarette butts and roach clips, and a stench of booze and sweat that would make any man curse his nose.

Christ, what happened last night? Thought Paul to himself.

As he cleansed his eyes, Paul noticed a black line etched into his left palm. He quickly pulled his left hand away and saw a whole message scrolled into his arm, in thick magic marker.

Dear Paul,

Sorry to break it to like this, but you were so fucked up I couldn't wake you. So, good news, I got that part in our school's musical that I tried out for, you know the one with the Nazi and the nuns, Sound of something. But the bad news is, I got to take the car right now to get back into town, cause the rehearsals start this afternoon. I left twenty bucks for you to have fun at the convention. Sorry.

Later,

Bill.

Paul turned to his other hand and there, taped to the back of his hand was a very beat up and faded portrait of Andrew Jackson, starring back at him. As he began to peal the tape off, Paul noticed another message on his right forearm.

P.S. By the way I left you my Van costume. If you wear it, you can get into the convention for half off.

I'm gonna kill that son of a bitch, thought Paul. Abandons me in the seediest motel in the world, the kind of motel that hookers get killed in, and with what, twenty bucks and a fucking costume?

Paul stood up and made his way across the desolate landscape to the bathroom. He quickly undressed and stood naked in the shower, letting the warm water wash away Bill's note from his body.

On the other side of the city, a young girl named Jessie woke up in her old Mustang convertible, but it wasn't the light that did it. Instead, it was the rocking of her car that brought her to life. Upon awakening, Jessie rose to discover that the rocking was coming from a group of boys lounging her hood.

"Hey," yelled Jessie as she rolled down her window, "get the fuck off my car!"

"Bitch," said one of the boys as he rose to his feet. "You best not be talking to me!"

"You a retard on top of being a faggot or something," said Jessie unafraid. "Who else could I be talking to?"

The boy began to approach; hissing, "Bitch."

Yet before the boy could get to Jessie, a bottle flew threw the air like a thunder bolt from Zeus, and connected with the poor boy's head.

"Have some breakfast faggot," said Jessie just before the bottle collided with the boy.

The boy laid there now, sprawled out like a cadaver awaiting the autopsy. His friends quickly rose to attack his assailant, but Jessie was too quick for them and sped off, throwing a defiant middle finger up into the air.

The boys gave chase, but Jessie was too fast for them, so cries of "Bitch," "Cunt," and "Whore," went where the boy's legs could not take them. Yet, at the sound of these words, Jessie merely smiled. These words were badges of honor for her, signs that she had got the better of a bunch of punks who underestimated her.

Jessie put the roof down, and drove through half the city that morning, part because she was lost, and part because she relished being lost. It was something she had enjoyed since her days as a toddler; stumbling through a new and unfamiliar world, disoriented and dizzy with delight, coming across something new and unexpected, with each step forward. The only thing she loved more than being lost was finding what she was looking forward: there was no reward greater, no sensation sweeter, than coming across that desire, that goal at the end of her journey. That feeling of relief and discovery was what filled her now as she drove by the convention center. She had gone from uptown to downtown, east to west, through night and day, to be here. She smiled as she parked the car, reminiscing the miles behind. Her heart even began to leap once more, as she dreamt of what the day might bring.

Paul, on the other hand, couldn't really remember how he got to the city, or even what was going to happen next. The night before was forever lost to him, only patches of it remained: the cool feel of a bottle in his hand, the sight of the city ablaze, the sound of Bill's laugh, the scent of reefer as it filled the room, and the taste of an unfamiliar woman. While Jessie's trip to the convention had been a solitary odyssey, Paul's had been an exercise in decadence and near self-destruction. Even now, Paul wondered whether or not he could really go through the day alone, save for his constant companion know as pain. He dogged up the stairs, breaking into a sweat under that harsh summer sun, in full costume, and swore to himself, I'm never drinking again. To consummate this oath, he vomited what was left of breakfast upon the last step to the convention.

While Paul struggled up the stairs, Jessie was struggling to get her outfit on. She had taken her pants off now, and had to wiggle in her seat to get her skirt on. Fuck, this is short, she thought to herself as she looked down at her skirt that hung far above her knees. Next her shirt came off, to be replaced by the buttoned blouse, followed by the knee-high socks. All told, the outfit looked good on Jessie, and Jessie knew this as she began her walk. She was fifteen-paces from her car when she forgot the most important part of the outfit. She dashed back to the car, dug through the clutter of clothes to find her red bow, which she quickly tied around herself.

"There," she said to her reflection in the rear view mirror, "Ain't I the cutest little Hitomi you ever did see?"

Paul entered the convention and felt a little relieved as he passed by the mass of attendees. Thank God I ain't the only one who was stupid enough to get dressed up. There were Cowboy BeBop types and Trigun types, ninjas and samurais, guys in dresses and chicks in suites. He even saw a Final Fantasy VII crew pass him by, Hope Sephiroth doesn't catch up with them, he thought to himself with a grin.

Jessie dashed in a few minutes later and began to take in the scene. She loved conventions, she often used to remark that they were like a grotesque fashion show for anime characters. She continued to walk around the floor a bit, checking out the costumes and some of the booths.

Paul and Jessie couldn't have been more than a few yards from each other, in fact they were eyeing up the same booth. They probably would have never even seen each other, if fate hadn't intervene, of course.

"Excuse me," said a voice behind Paul.

Paul kept looking through the manga till the voice said again, "Excuse me, you in the Van costume."

Paul turned and looked at the bearer of the voice, a little guy with a camera around his neck. "Who me?" asked Paul.

"Yes, you," said the guy with the camera. "Can I get a picture of you and her?"

"Me and who?" asked Paul feeling a bit confused.

"You and the girl in the Hitomi outfit," said the photographer.

When Jessie heard the remark about Hitomi she quickly turned to see the boy with the camera pointing at her while standing next to Paul.

"But I don't …" began Paul until Jessie quickly interjected, "Sure you can take our picture."

Jessie walked over and stood next to Paul, and the photographer looked through his camera.

"Could you two get closer together," asked the photographer.

"Ummm…" said Paul looking at Jessie, "sure I guess."

The two came together even closer now, their bare skin touching each other. Paul felt Jessie's smooth and tender skin across his bare forearm. The sensation made his skin crawl, as if it wanted to leap from him and engulf her body. Jessie, for her part, couldn't stop her eyes from drifting along Paul's bronze body. He wasn't big, some would even call him skinny, but the proper adjective to describe Paul's features would be "Lean." There wasn't an ounce of fat on him, every pound was muscle, but not bulky like a body builder or football player, but slim, like a swimmer or a boxer. Dressed in his armor, even though it be fake, Paul reminder her of an ancient Greek warrior, or a Roman gladiator.

"Please look this way," said the photographer taking Jessie and Paul out of their study of each other's body, "and smile."

A flash blinded the two an instant later, forever framing in them in that moment. The photographer looked up and said, "Thanks for the picture, you two have a nice day."

And as quickly as the photographer had entered their life, he left it. Paul and Jessie stood together at the booth with nothing to say to each other.

"Umm…" began Paul, "my name's Paul."

He extended his hand for the shake and Jessie took it into hers, "Jessie, I like your movie Van outfit. You don't see too many of them."

"Thanks," he added. "You don't see too many movie Hitomi's, either."

"Please, as if anyone can pull off a cute TV Hitomi. I mean, just look at that blouse."

"Yeah, I always sorta preferred the movie character designs to the show. Except for Folken of course."

"Christ, what were they thinking, giving him a mullet?"

The two chuckled, and without a second thought, began walking together through the countless isles, passing other cosplayers. Before they knew it, they were on the subject of how both came to the convention.

"Ha, ha," bellowed Jessie as Paul finished his story.

"Come, on," said Paul. "This isn't funny."

"You come on. I mean, your friend abandons you, to pursue a career in show biz. I mean that's a fucking comedy."

"It's only a high school play for God's sake."

"At least he gave you some cash."

"Yeah, twenty dollars, that he probably used to snort coke of some hooker's ass."

"Ha! But seriously, any normal person would have called their folks or something, to wire them some cash."

"Please, my parents would chalk it up as a learning experience. And what about you? Sleeping on the streets in an unfamiliar city."

"I slept in my car, not the streets."

"All I'm saying," he ended with, "it's not normal."

"Fuck normal," she said.

The two stopped by an import anime stand.

"So, let me get this, oh so typical question, out of the way," began Paul, as he flipped through a few titles. "How did you get into anime?"

"Well," started Jessie. "I was always big into foreign films. Asian, European, anything really. And so anime was just a natural continuation of that. What about you?"

"Well, I'm kinda the opposite."

"How so?"

"I got into anime before I got into foreign film, which I love by the way."

"How did you start?"

"Well, back when I was little. Like eight or nine, the Scifi Channel use to show anime movies on Saturday mornings. So, one day, flipping through the channels, after all the normal cartoons were over. I came across a cartoon where this dude chopped off the head of some monster, and looked uber cool doing. Needless to say I was hooked ever since."

"Thank God you didn't say you started with Pokemon…"

"I hated that shit. I felt betrayed, cause like I was watching the heavy shit like Akira and Vampire Hunter D, years before that crap ever caught on. Christ, I was thankful you didn't say you were a Sailor Moon fan."

"Please, those dykes have no fashion sense what so ever."

"You know what other show I never liked, Dragon Ball Z."

"Really, do tell."

"Well for a number of reasons. First, the battles drag on for like twenty episodes. For the love of god, lay off the monologues and fight. And two, it's racist."

"Explain."

"Okay, what happens when the heroes get really powerful? They get blonde hair blue eyes, they're fucking Nazis!"

Jessie merely smiled and replied. "I think you're really reading way to in to the whole, Aryan race thing."

Paul smiled in return. "Maybe, but I don't care what you say. Animes are deep."

And as if to prove this point, the two debated animes and their themes for the rest of the day. Escaflowne with its Romantic and alchemic influences: how two opposite beings come together, and create harmony with love as the catalyst. .Hack being nothing more the quest for the Holy Grail mixed with Eastern mysticism of enlightenment thrown in. Wolf's Rain use of western fairy tales and again the idea of two polar beings creating paradise, only to learn that it lives inside of us all. They went on and on, about how Akira was the greatest manga ever made but the movie was so over rated. How the Matrix is nothing more than a cheap knock of Ghost in the Shell. That Gundam 08th MS Team was the only good Gundam ever, and all the other ones sucked.

"So," said Paul, after explaining the religious and existentialistic undertones of Neon Genesis. "What do you do, besides anime."

"Manga," replied Jessie.

"I'm serious."

"Fine, just kidding. Well besides the obvious: movies, music, and reading. What I love, above everything else, is getting lost."

"Could you explain how getting lost is a hobby?"

"You know that feeling when you lose something, or when you get lost? That feeling of dread mixed in with anxiety. And like, all the sudden, everything stops, nothing matters except that little thing; your keys, your wallet, that old picture of family, and it becomes the most important thing in your world, hell the only thing. And when you find it, the relief washes over you, making you feel alive again, like you're… you're…"

"Whole again," he said.

"Exactly, suddenly you feel clean and that nothing can keep you down, nothing."

"I'm kinda the same way. But its like, I obsess over something, then when I get it, I lose interest in it."

"How is that similar?"

"Well, for instance, say I really wanted something. I want it so bad it hurts, it's like I lost it before I had it. I spend all my time thinking about how to get it and what I'm gonna do with it. But as soon as I get, say a book, I read it once, then get bored with it and discard it. After that first time, as soon as I get it, when I realize it's mine and I don't have to fight for it anymore, I lose interest. I'm the same way with people," he then quickly added, "sometimes."

"Yeah, me too."

"It's like we're the same."

"Please, I've got way better knockers than you."

Paul looked down at his bare chest than back at Jessie with a grin. "You got me beat there."

As he said this, his eyes caught hers, and in an instant they were trapped. All they could do for a while was stare at each other, lost in the other's gaze. Paul had never seen eyes like hers before, so blue, so deep. He felt he could dive into them and swim for eternity, never reaching the shore. To Jessie, Paul's black eyes reminded her of the summer sky back home; so dark and beautiful, it felt as if she was staring into the infinite.

"Wait, I want to remember you," said Jessie as she dug through her purse, for what Paul thought, would be a camera. Thus, he became perplexed when she brought out a tape recorder.

"What the hell is that?"

"A tape recorder, genius."

"Where's the camera?"

"I don't take pictures, I take voices. It makes me remember you better."

She handed him the tape recorder and he asked. "What do I say?"

"Anything, I'm gonna go over to the T-shirt booth. Get me when you're done."

Paul watched as she left him, crossing through the isle to the t-shirt booth. He watched her hips sway as she moved further and further away. How beautiful, he thought, how sad. In all his travels, he had never met someone like her, so brash and unafraid, so fascinating. He had talked to her like an old friend, telling her things he couldn't even tell Bill. He looked at the tape recorder and wondered who else was trapped in here with him, what other ghosts. He wondered if the other boys on this tape felt the same way he did about her: intimate and unfamiliar, loving and distant, beautiful and damned. He wanted to go to her and touch her, but he also wanted to watch her go.

Jessie was flipping through the rack of T-shirts. She stole glances at Paul as he held the tape recorder to his mouth. She wondered what he thought of her, what he was saying. Some people, boys especially, usually had little to say; unable to let the words flow freely from the soul. Yet, occasionally, there were those that let it all out, those unafraid to show what was buried deep within themselves. She stared at him, sensing his melancholy, which seemed to hang about him like a cloud, casting a shadow over his face, making him look old and tired. She wondered what would become of him tomorrow, where he would be when the convention was over, would he return to his home, and she to hers? The idea of never seeing him again filled her with infinite sadness. Yet, perhaps it is better to lose him, she thought, before he abandons me. She had revealed to him about losing things, and he about discarding what he once loved. Who would act first, would she lose him and be left with his voice, or would he discard her like everyone else, but leave behind a piece of his soul?

Paul saw her staring at him, with those diamond blue eyes. He finished his little monologue, and began to walk towards her. She gazed at him as he handed the tape recorder back. She put it back into her bag without a moment of hesitation. "Ain't you gonna listen to it?"

"I'll listen to it later. Besides, I got the whole of you right now. What could I do with just a part?"

Jessie smiled back at him. Paul never took pictures, not for any particular reason, other then that he preferred his memory to a photograph. In the years to come he would often return to this image; Jessie smiling warmly at him, with a hint of lounging, overpowered by a sense of ease, as one of her arms hanged free and relaxed, by her jutting hip, while the other tucked back a strand of lose amber hair that fell before her brow.

"So, let me ask you this," began Jessie after they started walking again. "How you gonna get home?"

"Well, I think I can get more than halfway, hopefully past the desert, with the money I got. The rest of the way, I'm gonna have to hitch."

"Isn't that a bit dangerous?"

"Not really. You'd be surprised how many nice people are out there."

"Ever been attacked or forced to do sexual favors."

"Well, I've never been attacked, but as for sexual favors, I wouldn't say forced…"

Jessie gently hit his shoulder. "Just kidding," he ended with.

A mass of cosplayers appeared and without a thought, Paul grabbed Jessie's hand and pulled her along as he waded through the crowd. Paul's enormous hands enfolded Jessie's small delicate ones, his coarse, calloused fingers strangling her smooth palm. After parting the crowd, Paul let go of Jessie, even though he didn't want to.

"You know," said Jessie, looking back at the mass of bodies. "I love crowds."

"Really, why?"

"I love the sound, that meshing of a million conversations as one."

"I like the feel of a crowd, you know what I mean? Like that bizarre intimacy you feel with the other people, like you can touch them and they don't freak out or anything. You're like connected but alone at the same time."

"Yeah," said Jessie as she entwined her one hand with the other, studying the intersecting pattern her fingers made.

As they continued to walk, they came across the talent show stage. Countless cosplayers swarmed about it, creating a deafening babble amongst themselves. Yet, when the MC came onto the stage everyone hushed.

"Domo to everybody in the house," cried the MC on his microphone. "We are here today to celebrate the 16th annual Talent Show. Now all you veterans know we here pride ourselves on only having the finest of prizes, and this year is no exception."

The man walked over to a curtain and began again. "Now, in honor of our 16th year, we have decided on a very special, and I dare say appropriate prize. Cause what 16 year old wouldn't want a car?"

He cried as he pulled away the curtain, revealing a brand new car. The crowd erupted in cheers at the sight of this magnificent prize. In the reflection of its finish, Jessie thought she could see Paul and herself in it.

"Hey, Paul," she said.

"Yeah?"

"Can you sing?"

"A little, I guess. Why do you ask?"

She nodded her head in the direction of the car.

"No way," replied Paul.

"Come on!" she cried. "Think about it. What better revenge than to win a car with the costume your buddy Bill left you with? Besides, you need a lift, don't you?"

"Yeah, but what song are we gonna do?"

"Oh, right" said Jessie as a blank expression came over her. She held up one finger and said, "Give me a minute," and dove into her purse, retrieving her iPod. She quickly began scrolling down the play list, trying to thing of a song that they could both sing. It took her two minutes to find it but when she did, she cursed herself for not thinking of it first.

"Got it!" she cried.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Alright, do you know the Postal Service?"

"Yeah."

"Good, cause we're doing their song, Brand New Colony."

"But I can't sing."

"Don't worry, I'll teach you. Besides it's perfect, it's a duet, and it's all about being in love and going to paradise."

"How poetic."

The two went to the registration booth, filled out some paper work and the like. When it came to the entrance fee, Jessie brought out her credit card.

"Sorry," said the lady at the desk. "Cash only."

"But I don't have enough on me."

"I do," said Paul as he laid down Andrew Jackson with a few other dead presidents.

"No," said Jessie, picking up Paul's money and trying to give back to him, but he only refused.

"No, no, it's all right."

"No it isn't. You need this to get home."

"Please, I'm driving home."

Paul grinned with a confidence that made it seem as if he already had the car. Jessie looked at him and gave in, throwing the money back down on the table.

"At least let me pay you back," she said looking at the ground.

Paul moved forward and gave her a little hug. "You already have." Jessie blushed a little, and as he let go of her, he said, "Come on, we got a song to learn."

Paul and Jessie sat together and listened to the song together, making sure each knew which part they were going to sing. To a casual observer, they would seem like an odd pair, a warrior and a school girl sharing a set of head phones, facing each other like a mirror, and singing their hearts out. Soon their number was called up and they went to the waiting area, behind the stage with the other contestants.

Out on the stage a tall girl with short hair dyed red was wailing on her guitar. Paul couldn't figure out who she was until she finished and crashed the guitar upon a manikin's head, which appeared as if it exploded with the guitar, sending pieces all across the stage. The manikin collapsed, and somehow a small object laid with the wreckage of the guitar. FLCL, thought Paul with a grin, chuckling as the girl took a bow and dragged the manikin off the stage.

Other contestants came and went. A few Final Fantasy types recreated a few sword fights, and more than a handful of kimono clad red-heads tired to show off their samurai sword play with mixed appeal. A few scantly clad ladies tired to woo the crowds with their vocal skill, only to miss their mark.

All in all, Jessie was at total ease as she watched the fellow contestants, unimpressed with any of them. Paul in contrary, started to get the shakes, starting in his hands and traveling through his body, until his knees swayed and trembled like a leaf in the wind. Jessie saw this and placed her hand on Paul's, gently calming him. "Relax," she said, and Paul felt at ease a he smiled back at her in kind.

Paul's eyes began to drift at the other players behind the stage. It felt as if all his favorite characters where living and breathing around him. His eyes wandered, and caught something that inspired. He let go of Jessie and began to make his way past other contestants until stopping at a very large and well attired .Hack troupe.

"Hi, I'm Paul," he said, giving a way to the group. "Umm… This is gonna be weird, but can I borrow your wings," he asked the Lady Subaru cosplayer.

"No," said Lady Subaru flatly.

"Excuse me?"

"She said no," said Silver Knight, stepping towards Paul. Paul stared at Silver Knight, completely un-intimidated by him. Paul hand been in more than a few fights in his life, a lot more than a few in fact, but he was no bully, and thus he tried to solve the problem like a gentleman.

"Listen," he started, "I just want to borrow the wings for my routine. And anyway, I'm number 19, and you guys are like 23."

"We need those wings," said Tsukasa.

"Yeah," piped in the Sora look alike. "If anything happens to them, we're screwed."

"Tell you what," said Paul. "If I win, I'll give you some of the prize, deal?"

The troupe huddled together and babbled for a bit. Until Bear, their leader apparently, stood and said "We'll loan you the wings, but if anything happens to them…"

"Don't worry," said Paul as he gingerly grasped the wings from Lady Subaru. Paul turned and made his way back to Jessie, thinking to himself; Man, some of these people take this shit way too seriously.

"What was all that about?" asked Jessie as Paul came back.

"Just a friendly business transaction," replied Paul as he placed the wings on his back. "How do I look?"

"Like an angel," she replied.

"Number 19 you're up next," called the stage manager.

"That's us," said Jessie. "You ready?"

"Does it matter at this point?"

"Nope."

"What the hell, I've made worse decisions in my life."

The pair made their way behind the curtain, waiting for their call. Everything was already set up, Jessie gave her iPod to the DJ, who was gonna mute the vocals but keep the instruments playing.

Past the curtain, Paul and Jessie went, greeted by the cheers of countless fans. Paul looked out into the crowd, and nearly fainted. As his legs buckled, Jessie grabbed him and whispered, "Don't worry, just focus on me."

Paul nodded sheepishly, feeling a bit stronger at seeing Jessie's confidence.

Jessie stood tall and proud, facing the crowd without a hint of fear. The music started up and she began.

Jessie: _I'll be the grapes fermented,  
Bottled and served with the table set in my finest suit  
Like a perfect gentlemen_

Paul: _I'll be the fire escape that's bolted to the ancient brick  
Where you will sit and contemplate your day_

Paul felt better know, letting his voice take charge.

Jessie: _I'll be the water wings that save you if you start drowning  
In an open tab when your judgment's on the brink_

Paul: _I'll be the phonograph that plays your favorite  
Albums back as your lying there drifting off to sleep..._

Jessie: _I'll be the platform shoes and undo what heredity's done to you...  
You won't have to strain to look into my eyes_

Paul: _I'll be your winter coat buttoned and zipped straight to the throat  
With the collar up so you won't catch a cold_

With that line, Paul threw his wings on and grabbed Jessie's hand.

Paul: _I want to take you far from the cynics in this town  
And kiss you on the mouth_

Jessie: _We'll cut our bodies free from the tethers of this scene,  
Start a brand new colony  
Where everything will change_

Paul: _We'll give ourselves new names (identities erased)  
The sun will heat the grounds  
Under our bare feet in this brand new colony_

Jessie gripped Paul's hand tight and, they both breathed in deep, for the last verse.

Paul and Jessie: _Everything will change, oOo oOo..._

They peered into each other's eyes as they sang the last verse together. Losing themselves in the song; they sang with all that filled their lungs, and held each other as if they feared the other could float away forever. When the music died down, the crowd went wild, giving the pair a standing ovation. Yet, Paul and Jessie were deaf to this, as she buried her head into his chest, and he enveloped her in his arms. After a few moments, they walked off stage, hand in hand, oblivious to the rest of the world. Before they reached the exit, Paul tossed off his wings handed them to the .Hack crew.

"Thanks again," he said with a toothy smile.

"Whatever," was all that he heard in reply.

Paul and Jessie made their way from the rest of the crowd and sat together, just far away enough to hear the echo of the talent show. Paul wrapped his arms around her neck and Jessie sat between his legs, with her back pressing into him.

"You were amazing up there," she said.

"Please it was all you," he replied.

"No, no, the wings were perfect."

"Thanks, but without you, it wouldn't have happened. I mean your voice…" he said, trailing off, unable to put it in words.

"It's nothing, anyone can sing. I mean, you're living proof."

"It was still incredible. Do you take lessons?"

"Yeah. I use to be in the chorus, but it got boring, cause they always made us do the same songs every year. But, I've kept with it own my own."

"You could go professional, you know."

"Shut up."

"I'm serious."

Jessie began to laugh. Paul could feel her body shake and bounce, echoing through his own. "Stop," she said. "You'll make me piss myself."

Paul held her closer and smiled as she calmed herself eventually. They remained like this forever, not even rising when the names of the talent show's winners began to be rattled off.

"Let's give a hand to all the contestants!" cried the MC in the distance, the audience replying in kind with cheers and applause. "What a year, what a year. Man, competition was a bit stiff this year, but there's always a winner."

He began to rattle off the list of names for each category. Best Group, Best Acting, Best Costumes, Best Original Act, and Best Musical. Sadly none had gone to Paul and Jessie, but they didn't seem to notice. It wasn't long until the MC got to the very last category.

"And this year's grand prize winner of the 16th annual talent show, and proud owner of a brand new car is…" drum roll, mixed with tension so thick in the air you could it with a knife. "… Sarah and Al Patterson for their interpretive dance rendition of Wolf's Rain.'"

The crowd erupted in a fury of cheers as the two siblings, one dressed as Cheza and the other Kiba, got on stage. The two couldn't stop giggling as they took the keys and the trophy from the MC. They walked off stage after the applause finally died down.

"Ahh, nuts," said Jessie, as she lifted her head to see the winners take their bow.

"Don't worry about it," said Paul. "They deserved it."

"Yeah," she said. "But I still feel shitty for making you pay for all of it."

"It ain't no thing," he said.

As the crowd began to disperse and the MC to step off stage, a little assistant with a walkie-talkie, ran up stage and whispered into the MC's ear. "Wow, wow," cried the MC into the microphone. "Seems, we got a little mix up. I totally spaced on one of the categories, so sorry. But without further ado, our last prize for the day, Best Pair, goes to…" he opened an envelope, given by the assistant. "… Paul Fisher and Jessie Alter, for their duet of Postal Service's 'Brand new colony.'"

"Holy crap," the pair said in unison, too shocked to move. It wasn't until the MC starting waving his hands that they finally got to the stage, hand in hand. The MC gave them a basket each of various anime titles. They waved to the crowd and left using the backstage.

"Oh my God," said Jessie.

"I can't believe this," said Paul as rifled through his basket. The contents of which were of a varying quality; the very good: vintage Hayao Miyazaki, to the very bad: vintage Dragon Ball.

"Hey look," said Jessie as she dove into her basket. "I got the Escaflowne movie!" holding it up for him to see. He grasped it and turned it over to look at the two iconic figures, Hitmoi and Van, that had brought them together. For some reason he began to laugh.

"What's so funny?" asked Jessie.

"It's nothing, except that, in all probability, we should have never met."

"Say what?"

"Think about. We both had to have seen the series and the movie, and liked… no loved both. Gone to this convention, and just happen to be at the same both as some random guy with a camera. Plus, I had to be abandoned, save for a costume, by my buddy Bill."

"Fuck man," said Jessie. "You think too much."

"How do you suppose that?"

"Just give into it, man. Accept it for what it is; happenstance, serendipity, fate, destiny, luck… whatever."

"I don't believe in any of those."

"What about… love?"

"Ahh, love," he said as he clasped his hands around her hips, and pulled her in close. "Now that's something I can get behind."

Jessie and Paul held each other in a lover's embrace, blind to all except each other. They peered forever, into each other's eyes, until closing them, to dive in. Yet, before their lips could collide as one, fate intervened once more.

"Hey asshole," said a voice from behind.

Paul turned, oh why did he turn, to see the .hack troupe crowding behind him. They glared at him with indifference and anger. Paul let go of Jessie and said, "What do you guys want?"

"You forget about our deal?" said Silver knight.

"Oh yeah," said Paul as he fished through his basket, coming up with a few titles. "Here you go."

"Nah," said Bear waving his hand at Paul's offering. "We want it all."

"What?" replied Paul.

"You heard the man," said Mimur. "We want the whole thing."

"What the hell you talking about," exclaimed Paul. "I said you could have some."

"Not anymore," said Subaru. "We lost because of you, so we want it all."

"Lost?"

Subaru turned to show off her wings, bringing to light a small dent in the tip of the right wing. "See," she said, "you broke it, and we got points off for bad costume design."

"I didn't do that."

"You saying she did that herself," said Sora.

"No, but…"

"Just give us the basket," interjected Bear.

"Fine, fuck it," said Paul, shoving the basket into Silver Knight's chest. He began to walk away with Jessie, but they blocked his path.

"Hers too," said Tsukasa.

"What?"

"Her basket too."

"Fuck you."

Tsukasa grabbed at the basket and Paul batted the hand away. "Don't you dare touch her!" Paul guided Jessie to behind him, trying to put her out of harms way.

"Paul," whispered Jessie.

"It's okay," said Paul turning his head. As he did so, Silver Knight took a swing at him with his fake wooden sword. Paul pushed Jessie away, ducked the blade, and rose to deliver a blow to Silver Knight's stomach.

Soon, the troupe pounced, a storm of fist and legs swept the hall, with Paul in the eye. Other, cosplayers stepped in, trying to bring peace to the scene, only to be swept up in the violent dance.

All Paul could hear was the cries of hate, accompanied by the fists of anger. He was lost in the crowd, trying desperately to his way make back to her.

"Paul!" he finally heard, over the other screams.

He saw her, her crimson scarf calling out to him. He began to swim through the crowd, pushing and shoving with all his might. He willed his legs forward, fighting off the mob that kept her from him. He finally, reached his hand out and felt it entwined with hers. Countless rioters stood between her and him, and all he could see of her was a part of her face.

"Jessie," he tried to say, only to have it lost in his throat. He felt his grasp waning, his fingers slipping away from hers. The crowd pulled and pulled at him, and as he lost her hand, he try to find something else to hold onto, at last gripping her scarlet scarf. Yet it began to unravel, and too weak to fight anymore, he gave in and let the tide take him away…

Paul shoveled the last fork's worth of scrambled eggs into his mouth, as the bus outside the diner got back onto the highway and drove on. Paul tried not to look out at the window, for it seemed the awaiting desert was taunting him, as if it knew they're appointment was nearing. Instead he focused on his breakfast, the greasiness of the bacon, the saturated last drop of his tea, and the remnants of salt along his lips. He swallowed the eggs, and placed the fork down onto the bare plate, which he pushed away from himself. He rested his elbows on the counter and placed his head onto his hands, and thought back to how he came here.

After the brawl, and out of fear from the center's security, he made a quick exit out of the convention center. After dashing halfway across the city, he finally made it to his motel just before sunset. Not bothering to check out, him and Bill used fake ID's to check in anyway, he stuffed the last of his possessions into his bag and ran to the bus depot. He only had about $18, but $15 was good enough to get him to the first stop outside state lines, and staying another night in a place like this was last thing he needed.

That night on the bus, Paul slept with his head against the window. The lights of the city shined brightly as he made his exodus. The last thing he saw was his reflection as he past out from weariness; his face and the city mingled as one in the window, and Paul wondered if anyone could be able to tell the difference.

Paul finished his breakfast and watched as the bus that delivered him here, abandoned him. Alone now, he continued to look out the window, mesmerized by the heat waves that danced along the desert landscape. They reminded him of kids, jumping with anxiousness, awaiting their new toy to play with. Turning back to the bill, he reached for his wallet, pulling out his last three dollars. Feeling guilty about not being able to leave a tip, Paul dove into his bag and was struck with an idea.

The waiter approached Paul and took the bill along with the plate, but before he could leave, Paul said. "Hey, wait a minute."

"Yes," said the waiter.

"I don't have enough money for a tip," he began. "But I'd like to make a deal."

"Okay," said the waiter, a bit dazed.

"If you give me a couple bagels, some cookies, and a few of those bottled waters, I'll give this movie." He said as his hand emerged from his bag with the Escaflowne movie.

"What am I suppose to do with that?"

"Whatever man; sell it, watch it, throw it out for all I care."

"Is it new?"

"Yep, still in its original plastic. So, its gotta be worth at least twenty easy."

"Alright," said the waiter as he grabbed the movie. He quickly grabbed some of the food and water Paul requested and handed it to him. As Paul stuff the supplies into his bag, the waiter asked. "So, what's it about?"

Paul turned to the waiter. He pondered the question, what was it about, what made it so different, so much more beautiful than any other film he had watched? "It's about two people," he began. "Who were never meant to meet. But somehow they do. And of course, they fall in love, but don't realize it at first, and it takes a lot for them to finally understand that they need each other…"

Paul trailed off, wondering if he was really describing the film, or the dream he had yesterday; the one about a girl named Jessie. A girl so full of life, she refused to ever hold back. A girl like a flash of lighting, who left as abruptly as she had appeared.

"Then what…" asked the waiter.

Paul snapped back to reality, and quickly flashed a smiled to the waiter. "Well, you'll just have to see for yourself."

Paul waved goodbye and slugged his bag over his shoulder, and made for the exit. Yet a funny thing happened, a familiar voice stopped him.

"Excuse me," it said.

He turned to see a boy camera around his neck. "Impossible," he whispered.

"I thought I recognized you," said the cameraman. "Even though you look a lot different outside your cosplay outfit."

Paul didn't know what to say. He wondered about this man before him, this instrument of fate. Why, he thought gazing upon him, why did you start this?

"I'm actually glad I ran into you again," he said as he rummaged through his pocket. "I wanted to give you this," he said handing him a photo.

Paul looked down at it, this image resting in his hands. Before him was a tall dark boy, his eyes looking down at a pretty, no, beautiful girl on his right. The girl was smirking as she faced the camera, while her eyes scanned to the left, to gaze upon this stranger that happenstance had partnered her with.

"Hey," said the cameraman, "you okay?"

"I'm fine," said Paul with a sniffle, bringing his one hand to his eye. "Thank you," he managed to force out.

He opened the door and walked out into the desert, and was immediately greeted by the blazing sun. He put on a pair of sunglasses and began his march away from the diner, clutching the photograph in his grasp.

She drove, and drove, whipping past the scorched and empty landscape. The endless yellow sand, the mute rocks, and the occasions viscous looking pieces of foliage. The sun was rising behind her, and the heat moved in with it, as if in pursuit of her.

She drove fast, as if trying to out run the rising sun itself. It seemed she wanted to stay in yesterday, the day she had with him.

After things settled down, Jessie ran frantically all over the convention center. But alas, Paul could not be found, and Jessie soon wandered her way back to her car. She tried not to cry, but it didn't help. Nothing helped, not even driving all night through the city, trying to lose herself in the unfamiliar streets, only to inevitably whine back on the main road. The road home.

Jessie stopped her car and pulled over to the rest stop. She parked and began to walk to the diner, but when she pulled at the door, to her surprise, it refused to open. She looked in, past the 'Sorry, we're closed,' sign, to see the place completely empty. Perplexed, she went back to her car and guided it to the gas station next to the diner. At the front desk, after handing over $25 for gas, she asked the mechanic, "How come the diner's closed?"

"Oh," said the mechanic. "All the waiters and cooks starting watching this movie on their break, and refused to go back to work until it's over."

"Really?"

"Yep," he said, "weird, huh."

"Yeah," she said as she went back to her car and drove away. Her tank full, but her stomach still empty.

A black speck stained his finger. He looked down at it, and watched as the sweat and the foreign substance mingled as one. He licked it, tasting the bitterness and the sweetness at the same time. He smiled, tasting something so new, yet familiar at the same time. Even in this unforgiving landscape, Paul had found a bit of happiness and comfort from the chocolate that remained on his hand, even when the original treat itself was gone. Yet, that was who Paul was, a man who made the best of any situation.

Could be worse, he thought to himself. Could be New Year's Eve all over again.

New Year's Eve. Him and Bill went down to the city, for some midnight rave at this old abandoned warehouse. Unfortunately, after the ball dropped, their ride decided that the two of them were worth less than some skank with blue hair, and ditched them. Long story short, him and Bill had to make it through the city on one of the year's coldest night, through some of the worst parts of the city.

Bill, why do I ever listened to that nut job?

But was Bill not the reason he met Jessie? And how bad was that New Year's? Who else, besides himself and Bill saw the first sunrise of the New Year, emerging boldly from behind the high rises and sky scrappers? Was it not one of his favorite stories, one that could conjure a smile from any listener? He was alive that night, like he was alive right now. Who else could say they crossed a desert to make it home, besides maybe Moses?

But he was heading to paradise, not home. I'm heading the wrong way, he thought turning around, trying to peer down the endless road from which he came. He started to walk down back that way again.

She's not there anymore.

He stopped, but the voice continued.

You abandoned her, remember?

Shut up, there was nothing I could do.

No, you could have fought. You could have been a man, for once in your life.

You know nothing!

I know everything, Paul. I'm that part of you that won't let you sleep, that part that ask, why? Why do you run away from everything you love? Why do you push when anyone pulls?

It was different this time! I wanted to stay with her. But she lost me…

No, you hid in that storm of your own design, so that you could be blown away from her. So she could never touch you, never love you.

No! No! No! Paul couldn't take it anymore. He collapsed to his knees and wept, his tears giving birth to rivers flowing down his cheeks. Without thought, his hand reached into his pocket, and pulled forth a crimson piece of cloth. His eyes dried, and the image slowly came into focus. His nose began to clear, at which time, he brought the scarlet fabric to his face, and inhaled its aroma. It was the scent of memory, like the fields just after a spring shower, or a hot summer night when the world refused to sleep. It was her, her smile, her voice, her gaze, her soul; it was right here.

You're wrong, he declared as he stood back up and turned around. I did not cast her off, nor did she lose me. We have only parted for the time being. And I don't care how long it takes, or what I have to do; I'll find her.

His head was raised high as he marched ever forward, away from yesterday, refusing to let it take away his today.

And I'll find her. I will. Because I am part of her, just as she is a part of me.

He looked forward, never taking his eyes off the horizon, not even to look down, as his hands tied the crimson cloth around his neck, its aroma creeping upward to his nostrils.

_No matter how far,_

_No matter how long,_

_I will be there…_

Skip.

_Whatever you need to make you feel  
Like you've been the one behind the wheel  
The sunrise is just over that hill  
The worst is over   
Whatever I said to make you think  
That love's the religion of the weak  
This morning we love like weaklings  
The worst is over. _

Skip.

_All is full of love…_

Skip.

_What a mess our lives turned out to be  
It was at its best when you and I were only 3  
We can start with all the things that turn us out   
And we can go right down the list and throw them out_

Can we start, start over?  
It's all over 

She ripped the CD out of the player, and tossed it aside. These songs use to calm her, now they just hurt her ears.

Everything hurt. The sun scorched her. The wind slapped her. The silence choked her. Yet, these pains without, where nothing compared to the agonies within.

Her insides seemed to be at war with one another. They thrashed and threw themselves about, as if trying to burst through her skin, clawing away inside. It was everywhere, in her chest, in her stomach, in her legs, in her head. But, though these things pained her, it was what she did not feel, that terrified her.

It was a like hole, a gapping void where something, or rather someone, should have been. She had never felt this way before, as if she couldn't move. The emptiness frightened her, and confused her. Why, she thought, why did I have to lose you?

She blindly grabbed for her bag on the passenger's side floor, as her eyes tear up. She couldn't reach it sitting proper, thus she bent to her side and grabbed the bag.

Paul turned as he heard the roar of the engine behind him. It seemed no one was driving the vehicle until it passed him and a head popped up in the driver's seat.

Jessie dug through her purse and felt something plastic and smooth. Her hands emerged with an ordinary looking tape. She didn't want to, but she did it anyway. She pulled over and pushed the tape into the player.

He walked closer to the car. "Thank, God," he said noticing that the back of the car had a bumper sticker from his high school. "A honor student, no less," he mused as he threw his bag into the back and opened the door to the passenger's side.

"Hey listen, thanks for stopping. I'll pay for…" and his voice failed him.

She paused in-between tears, and looked at the man next to her. He was tall with broad shoulders and a face that seemed older than it should have been. In his black eyes, she saw the infinite.

"I don't know what to say," said the voice on the tape. In the background, you could hear the hustle and bustle of the crowd, along with the usual babble, but the voice seemed to step over all that. "I guess I could say the usual, how I've never met someone like you, someone so beautiful and unique. But, that doesn't seem right. I thought today was gonna suck, or at least be normal. Yet, you change all that, you made this day amazing, you made it a memory, and there aren't many people I can say that about…"

His hand crossed the emptiness, and touched her cheek, coming away with one of her tears. He brought it to his lips, and tasted her essences. She grabbed his hand and guided it to her mouth, and allowed her lips to caress it.

"… It's funny how we revealed ourselves to each other so quickly. I've never told anyone about myself, at least not like that. It's like I'm safe around you. I think we were suppose to meet, sorta like its fate's way of showing us our errors. How we shouldn't be afraid of what we love, or what loves us…"

He pulled himself closer to her, crossing the divide and filling the void between them.

"… Nor do we need to lose that which we love, to really understand what it meant to us…"

She wrapped her arms around him, burying his head into her chest, refusing to ever let him go.

"… I know we just met, but I feel something for you. You know, that old cliché about never feeling this way before, well, not to be unoriginal, but that's what I got. And I don't want to stop feeling it. I don't want to run away anymore, I want to stay with you, no matter where you go. And I hope, that maybe you feel the same way, that maybe you won't lose me. That instead, you'll just be with me…"

He raised his head and peered into her eyes, seeing himself in that sea of azure within her. She gently ran her fingers through his rich, ebony hair. As she did, a lock of her hair escaped from the rest and fell over her brow. He reached up, and tucked it behind her ear. She came forward and closed her eyes, giving herself to him.

"… I think I'll quote my favorite part of Escaflowne, which seems oddly appropriate right now. 'I too am alone. It's sad being alone. It's painful. I felt that way too. But if we're together, at times we may hurt each other, and we may even part. But that is not the end. I'll always be with you…'"

Their lips let go of each other finally, and he let his body be cradled by her soft flesh. He could hear her heart beat, it was like a wave softly crashing upon a distant shore.

"… I wish I could say something half as good, in my own words, but I can't. But I like to think, that someday, I can show you how I feel about you, and that, you perhaps, feel the same…"

As she drew breath, his head rose and fell with her. He closed his eyes, and surrendered to her.

"… I'm thankful, that I met you. I truly am. I like to think that even though we'll go our separate ways after tonight, that maybe, somehow, our paths will cross again. Thank you."

The asphalt raced by beneath them. The wind whipped at them, and the sun began to settle, painting the sky part crimson and purple. Her one hand gripped the wheel, while the other held the boy's next to her. Every now and then, they would steal glances at each other, smirking when they caught the other in the act. The boy slowly, dove into his pocket and pulled out the photograph and handed it to her, which forced her to break her hold of him. She smiled at the photo, with tears in her eyes again, but this time they were tears of joy. He slowly unraveled the scarf and dried her cheeks.

The stars began to come out as the two journeyed on. There were millions of them, like little holes poked into a black curtain, drawn at midday. The moon ascended and bathed the two in its soft, nurturing light.

They each said a pray of thanks for bringing them together. They thanked the sun for rising, the moon for cashing him, and the stars for watching. They even thanked the Earth for turning and turning, giving them both yesterday and today, and even their tomorrow as well. They finally thanked the fates, or whatever name you would prescribe it. That unforeseen hand, that invisible architect of life, that had drawn them together, bounding them forever.

Christ, this story took me forever. The initial idea of the story was to have Paul and Jessie meet and talk about anime for the entire story, like its symbolism and theme, and all that. But the characters just ran away with themselves. I seriously had no idea how this one would end, but I'm happy with the way it did finally turn out. All in all, I hoped you liked this weird story, about two people who like anime maybe just a little too much.

Author's note: Okay, so I did take a lot of liberties with the song 'Brand New Colony,' by the Postal Service. It's not really a true duet, but the lyrics were too perfect to ignore. And for those curios as to which songs Jessie was listening to before she found Paul, I've provided a list. Enjoy.

Telepopmusik 'Close.'

Cursive 'A Gentlemen Caller.'

Bjork 'All is Full of Love.'

Abandoned Pools 'Start Over.'


End file.
